About a week in Norway

This is an account, illustrated with iPhone photographs, of about a week my wife and I spent in in Norway — Sept. 5-11, 2017. We live in Santa Monica, California, and this blog is usually about Santa Monica politics, but what the hell, I’ll expand my scope. At least this piece is about a couple of healthy cities—Oslo and Bergen.

We flew Sept. 4 to Norway from Boston because we sandwiched our Norway trip into a trip to New England to visit our son and friends. Our flight arrived in Oslo the morning of Tuesday, Sept. 5. (Norwegian Air runs an inexpensive and convenient non-stop service between Boston and Oslo twice a week.) We took the airport train into town, and walked from the Sentrum train station to our hotel on the Karl Johans Gate (“Gate” in Norwegian means street—nothing to do with a gate). Karl Johans Gate is the main, limited to pedestrians, axis running through the center of the city. (The hotel, the Comfort Hotel at 12 Karl Johans Gate, was a comfortable modern hotel situated in back of a pleasant courtyard off the street, with an excellent (and typically sumptuous) breakfast buffet.)

The immediate reason for our trip to Norway was that my wife, Janet, would be giving a paper at a conference at the University of Oslo. Since she’d be tied up at the conference for two days, the day we arrived would be her only day for tourism in Oslo. We figured that if one could only see one sight there, it had to be Munch’s “The Scream.” After having a bite to eat at a bar, we headed to the National Gallery.

Which was fun. It’s not a huge collection, but in any case we only had time and energy (because we were crashing from our overnight flight) to go to the second floor for the 19th and early 20th century works. The works by the Impressionists, Post-Impressionists, and by Picasso and Braque, et al., were good and representative, but what impressed me the most were the works by Norwegian artists I’d never heard of, particularly Christian Krohg. Krohg painted straightforward pictures with a lot of social meaning: of, for instance, a girl dying of tuberculosis, or a girl from the countryside lined up in a police station to be checked for VD so that she could work as a prostitute.

I took some pictures of the visitors in the Munch room.

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As I said, we were crashing, and we returned to the hotel to nap. We had made a dinner reservation on the recommendation of a friend at a fancy restaurant and we didn’t want to fall asleep during the meal. We awoke from our naps around five or so, and took a cab to the Aker Brygge area along the harbor. I wanted to see this waterside development because it’s been redeveloped from a shipyard that closed. Recycling industrial sites is a big thing in Los Angeles, including in Santa Monica, and in Santa Monica we’re always interested in the future of our waterfront, too.

Aker Brygge is slick. My overall impression was to wonder why (and how) the Scandinavians, or at least the Norwegians, do such a better job with modern architecture and urban planning than we do in the U.S. The scale seemed perfect.

Aker Brygge waterfront

In Santa Monica there are many battles about height (often as a stalking horse against any development), particularly along Ocean Avenue. Aker Brygge shows that good new development need not be very tall (although good development can be tall, too). My photograph of the harbor promenade shows buildings of only six stories, with excellent details and high quality materials. From a planning perspective, the designers did good work with ground floor connections to the public realm, and the public realm itself. (I suspect that developments like these, even at five stories, would face opposition in Santa Monica from the same people opposed to taller buildings, but that’s another story.)

From Aker Brygge we took a cab to the restaurant, which is called Ekebergrestauranten, presumably because it’s the restaurant located in Ekeberg Park. The park is now an outdoor museum for modern sculpture, but we only had time to see the sculpture from the taxi. The restaurant is in a terrific 1929 modern building (outside and in; see pictures) that is worth, with the accompanying views, at least a bit of a journey itself. We had a wonderful meal—of fish and game (venison in this case), which became the culinary themes of our Norwegian visit.

Ekebergrestauranten exterior

Ekebergrestauranten interior

The after dinner view from Ekebergrestauranten

Next day, Wednesday, Sept. 6, I was on my own as Janet went off to her conference at the university.

What I most wanted to see in Oslo was their Resistance Museum, which tells the story of what happened in Norway after the Germans conquered the country in April 1940. I’m a Baby Boomer child of parents who came of age during WWII (my father was in the army from 1942-45), and the War has always fascinated me. Not only that, but I can’t resist stories of courage and resistance to tyranny, which is what I knew I would find at the museum.

Fortunately, getting to the museum from our hotel on Karl Johans Gate was the perfect opportunity (notwithstanding the constant Norwegian drizzle-bordering-on-rain) for a walk that took me past some of the major monuments of the city. These included the Parliament building (opposite of which I was pleased to find a statue of my new favorite artist, Christian Krohg), and the City Hall (which as a local politics guy I was pleased to see looked bigger than the parliament).

Christian Krohg

The Parliament building

Between the Parliament and City Hall I stopped at a park where it appeared that a French company was running a demonstration project for a self-cleaning public toilet; they had three units there, in the French tricolor, named Liberté, Egalité and Fraternité.

Oslo City Hall is a major monument—to government itself and to modernity. Every year on December 10 the Nobel Peace Prize is announced there. The design comes from the 30s, and it’s hard not to see affinities with the Italian architecture of the era, which goes to show that there’s not much political content in architecture, or that architecture can be used for any political purpose. But the Oslo City Hall represents democracy, and from the “back” (the side not facing the harbor) it presents “open arms” to the public from the semi-circular plaza surrounding it.

Oslo’s City Hall from the “back.”

The plaza in front of the back of City Hall

The interior of City Hall was closed for preparations for parliamentary elections that were scheduled for the next week, which was unfortunate for me since I couldn’t see the “socialist” murals inside. After reading about them, I’d hoped to compare them in my mind with the Diego Rivera murals I’d been fortunate enough to see in Mexico City in 2016. I missed the murals, but the courtyard of City Hall is decorated with carved wooden bas-reliefs depicting Norse myths, and I liked them. I like them in particular because just before leaving the States for Norway I’d uploaded a book of the myths to my Kindle, and I’d been reading about what I was seeing. Don’t know why I didn’t take any pictures of the bas-reliefs, however.

City Hall’s courtyard (the bas-reliefs surround this)

I walked around to the other side of City Hall, the side that faces the harbor. Oslo in general and this area in particular has many outdoor sculptures. Most of the males were statesmen or artists, or workers in specific trades, while most of the women were naked and either motherly or allegorical (or both).

The front of City Hall, from the harbor

Tourist mimics sculpture

Looking out into the harbor from City Hall to the right is Aker Brygge, where I’d been the night before, and to the left is the Akershus Fortress, a working military base and the home of Norway’s Defense Ministry, but which was opened some years ago to the public as a park. The Resistance Museum is located in the fortress, and so I walked up into it, past a statue of Franklin Roosevelt. During the War the U.S. gave sanctuary to the Norwegian queen and her children (the king stayed in London, “on the job” so to speak, rallying the Norwegian resistance), and in gratitude Norway dedicated the statue of Roosevelt. The king’s decision to fight is the subject of a 2016 Norwegian movie, The King’s Choice, that is being released this fall in the U.S.)

The views of the harbor from the fortress are terrific, as one would expect.

The Oslofjord harbor from the Akers Fortress

I spent more than two hours in the Resistance Museum. I believe I read all of the considerable number of words in English there. I was moved. The museum was established around 1970, 25 years after the War ended, when the men and women of the Resistance could take stock of what had happened and what they had done. The museum, as the creation of both people who were involved in the events interpreted in there and of “objective” curators, is a curious, but inspiring, combination of “another roadside attraction” type exhibits, such as models of particular events and saved artifacts, that reflect the subjective perspectives and collections of those involved in the history, and more typical museum displays about the history.

The Museum doesn’t explain why Hitler invaded Norway and it doesn’t continue after the War to detail what happened to the quislings (including Quisling himself). There’s no larger history told other than that of the Resistance. Norway began resisting the Germans the night of the surprise attack of April 9, 1940, when an alert shore battery 30 kilometers west of Oslo, manned by aged pensioners and new recruits, sunk the German cruiser Blucher, which was full of soldiers and gestapo agents with a mission to seize the royal family and government officials. This was a major defeat for the German navy, and allowed the king and government to escape being captured at the start of the invasion, and to organize resistance.

After the Wehrmacht consolidated its control of the country, the Resistance took many forms. The one constant was the inability of Quisling’s Norwegian version of Nazism to convince many Norwegians that because of their ethnic heritage they should side with Hitler. I loved reading that the sports organizations just shut down rather than cooperate with the Germans, teachers wouldn’t cooperate as well, and that most of the police hightailed it to Sweden, where they trained as a military force to come back and fight when the Allied Command would call on them to do so. (Which the Command didn’t do, because the Allies didn’t want to have to divert their own troops to Norway—instead they wanted the Norwegians to keep the (up to) 400,000 Wehrmacht troops that were in Norway busy there, instead of leaving to defend Germany.)

I only took one photo in the museum—it’s of the sculpture that greets you when you enter, which is a swastika made of confiscated Mauser rifles.

In college a book that influenced me a lot was Mancur Olsen’s The Logic of Collective Action, which mostly deals with organizations like labor unions. The story of the Norwegian Resistance to the Germans is one of collective action writ large. It’s a great lesson for all time.

It wasn’t until after two o’clock that I exited the Resistance Museum, and I walked around the fortress. I popped into the Norwegian Military Museum, but mostly to get a sandwich at the coffee shop. I didn’t spend much time looking at the exhibits, but the Norwegian military is quite proud of the work they do these days in U.N. peacekeeping missions around the world, as well as with NATO.

At that point I was making a decision about what to do that night. My choices were to go with Janet out to dinner with her colleagues from the conference, or to go to see a performance that I’d seen advertised of The Magic Flute at Oslo’s opera house. I was torn. I like Janet’s colleagues (she’s a professor of philosophy), but I figured the first night of the conference they’d all be talking shop, and I love the Magic Flute. Once I realized that the opera house was only a ten-minute (or so) walk from the fortress, I wanted to see the opera house anyway, as it is new (2008), dramatic building designed by the Snøhetta firm.

Plaza at the Oslo Opera House

I decided to let the opera house make the decision: I’d go there and if the box office had a ticket available, I’d buy it.

Which they did and which I did. Which proved to be fortunate, as the production was unique. What the Oslo opera had done was get a well-known Norwegian comedian to play Papageno. According to the couple sitting next to me, the comedian had spent a year training to sing the role, and the production, which had premiered two years ago, had become a hit. Basically, amid all the great music and terrific singing, the comedian played Papageno as a social commentator. Most of his lines (but not all; some he must have adlibbed, based on the audience’s laughter) were translated into English in the titles that ran Metropolitan Opera-style on the backs of seat. His commentary acted as something of a counter-narrative to the weird Masonic and misogynistic text of the opera, without over-contemporizing it. (Agreed that Papageno already has this role in the libretto itself.)

Inside the Opera House

One of the best bits of going to the opera was that I struck up a conversation with the couple sitting next to me, Henrik and Elin. It turned out that they knew well the area that Janet and I would be driving to later in the week, and Henrik promised to send me a route to follow, which he did the next day. More on that later.

Next day, Thursday, Sept. 7, was one of those travel days when little things go wrong, but the results are good. To begin with, I needed to do laundry. I did a Google search and found that there was a coin laundry about a 15-minute walk from our hotel. I figured any 15-minute walk from the center of a city you don’t know has to be good, and set out for the laundry around nine o’clock. I expected to be finished by 11:00, and that I’d still be able to get over to the Bygdøy area by noon or so, to see the (several) museums there.

I won’t go into what a ridiculous travel laundry experience this turned out to be (other than to say that laundry, even coin laundry, like everything else in Norway is very expensive—$20 to wash and dry a small load of clothes!), but the serendipitous part was that not only was the laundry in a charming neighborhood with a good book shop (where I found a good map of southern Norway), but it was across the street from what is functionally Norway’s national cemetery.

Which I learned at the entrance to the cemetery where I found a graffiti’d map on a sign showing where the most famous dead are buried—including Ibsen, Munch, and my new favorite painter, Krohg.

The cemetery is a beautiful place and I took a lot of pictures, not only with my iPhone, but also with my Leica (with black and white film, so I have to wait for those to be processed).

Christian Krohg’s tombstone (and also for his wife, Oda, who was also a good painter)

Ibsen’s tomb

Along with the artists and literary lights buried there, I found a monument to two of the heroes of the WWII Resistance, Rolf Wickstrom and Viggo Hansteen, labor leaders the Germans executed.

After wandering around the cemetery I went looking for a coffee shop. On the way I passed a relic to a not-too-distant but it-feels-like-ancient past—a Kodak film sign. It too seemed like a monument to a deceased hero, namely, film. It’s outside what’s now a health food store, which, alas, does not sell film. I hope the sign stays there for a century or so, as an artifact.

While I drank my coffee I took a closer look at the guidebook. (The guidebook we took to Norway was Rick Steves’. I recommend it, and I’ve borrowed a lot from it for this essay, but I should note that it only covers southern Norway.) I learned that the neighborhood I was in, Grünerløkka, was a 19th century area laid out and constructed during Oslo’s industrialization, and that industrialization had largely occurred along the banks of the nearby Akers River. The river’s successive rapids and waterfalls had been harnessed for the power to run the mills and factories that fueled rapid population growth: Oslo’s population increased from 10,000 to 250,000 between 1850 and 1900. Steves recommended a walk up the river. After picking up my laundry, that’s what I did, instead of going to Bygdøy.

Along the way I passed Oslo’s oldest church, in fact the oldest building in Oslo, from the 11th century, the Gamle Aker Church.

Gamle Aker Church

The walk took me through 19th century neighborhoods that reminded me of elements of Barcelona’s and Berlin’s neighborhoods from the same time period. The river itself was lined with old rehabbed and re-purposed industrial buildings, including a large grain elevator that is now student housing.

Good 19th century urbanism

Grain elevator then, student housing now

You could see where the millraces had been.There’s a statue of four women workers (clothed), looking with some bitterness across the river at an old mill.

Old mill.

Four women mill workers

A street in Grünerløkka.

Also along the river, new developments, once again with excellent contemporary architecture and planning, had been built as infill. I ate lunch (moule frites) at a food hall, Mathallen Oslo, in one of the new buildings.

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New riverside development.

Mathallen

To return to the hotel on Karl Johans Gate I followed the river towards the Grønland neighborhood and the harbor. The river flattened out and became the centerpiece of an urban park. The last photo I took in Oslo was of pedestrians on Karl Johans Gate, behind the national cathedral.

Karl Johan Gate

Janet’s conference concluded Thursday (everyone, including me, went to dinner at an Asian fusion restaurant in Aker Brygge that night) and on Friday, Sept. 8, we picked up a rental car and started our two-day drive across southern Norway to Bergen. We had made a reservation for that night at a historic hotel in a little town called Solvorn. Solvorn sits on a fjord called the Lustrafjord that is a tributary fjord to the largest fjord of all, the Sognefjord. Fortunately these plans came up when I was talking to the couple I’d met at the opera Wednesday night, and Henrik had advised me to take a certain route that would take us over a pass with a glacier. The next day he emailed me a Google Maps link showing the route. The route added an hour or so to what would have been a six-hour drive, and so we probably would not have taken it, and we would have missed one of the best drives ever.

For the route, you travel north from Oslo towards Lillehammer on the E6, which is a major, divided highway when it leaves Oslo, but turns into a two-lane route a couple of hours out of Oslo. At a town called Otta you bend to the west and then later south, and ultimately you head down Route 55, through the Jotunheimen mountains. If you’re familiar with the Norse myths (which I was reading while I was in Norway), you will recall that the giants, with whom the gods were always fighting when they weren’t socializing with them, lived in the Jotunheimen, which is high up off the fjords, above the tree line, barren and cold, with glaciers that remain from the Ice Age.

Map of part of Route 55

The glacier and lake at the highest pass over the Jotunheimen, at the Sognefjellshytta lodge.

As is unfortunately typical for me, I didn’t read about this drive in the guidebook until after we’d completed it, so we missed stopping to see a few things. It turns out that Route 55 is a famous road. It’s known not only for the terrain it traverses, but also for how it does so, with many hairpin turns to bring the road down from the Jotunheimen to the Lustrafjord.

After the hairpin turns, past the town of Fortun, you come across this church in the valley.

Our destination in Solvorn was the Walaker Hotell, which we’d read about in the guidebook. The hotel dates back to 1690 and is now in the hands of the ninth generation of Walakers.

Walaker Hotell, Solvorn

The current proprietor met with guests to answer questions and tell stories after dinner. (Nice guy!) Speaking of dinner, while we’d been driving earlier in the day the hotel called on my mobile phone. They wanted to know if we wanted to reserve a table at the four-course dinner they serve each night. The meal, like all restaurant meals in Norway, would be expensive (about $90 for each of us, not including wine), but we said sure. After all, you only live once (and maybe go to Norway only once) and for that matter, we didn’t know if there was any other place to eat at in Solvorn. The meal was terrific, and served beautifully.

The hotel is located near where the Lustrafjord joins the Sognefjord. These are views from more or less its front yard.

Solvorn’s waterfront.

Looking across the Lustrafjord from Solvorn to Urnes.

Looking down the Lustrafjord towards the Sognefjord.

Saturday, Sept. 9. One reason to stay in Solvorn is that it’s a short ferry ride across the Lustrafjord to Urnes, which is the location of the oldest stave church in Norway. Stave church is not a term I’d known about before planning our trip to Norway, but stave churches are Norway’s special contribution to architecture. They were built in medieval times, after Norway converted to Christianity (around 1,000). There used to be about 1,000 of them, but only 28 remain. The Urnes stave church dates from 1129.

Urnes stave church

What I found most interesting about the stave churches (stave, by the way, refers to the large upright posts in the corners of the structures) was that as unusual as they look, they do not reflect the isolation of Norwegian culture in the Middle Ages, but rather the opposite. They were an attempt in the newly Christianized north to build churches using the Romanesque architecture that was the “International Style” of the time. Norway had a lot of wood and a long tradition of building boats out of wood, and the wood and the skills were used to build the stave churches. The Romanesque style is particularly evident in the round arches that are used throughout.

Decorative carvings at the Urnes stave church

Interior, Urnes stave church

The reason, by the way, that the churches have their evocative black color is that the wood is preserved by applying pine tar every five years or so. The churches, at least the two that we visited, are still in use. (I learned these facts from the tour guide who showed everyone around the church.)

The Urnes stave church is high up on a ridge above the ferry crossing and overlooking the junction of the Lustrafjord and Sognefjord. The views are tremendous, as were the views from the little ferry that we took back to Solvern to get back on our way to Bergen.

View from the graveyard at Urnes stave church

To get to Bergen from Solvorn, it’s possible, if you want to do so and if you time things right, to take a three-hour ferry from a nearby town (Kaupanger) to Gudvangen on the other side of the Sognefjord. This would save a lot of driving and give one the equivalent of a fjord cruise. We considered doing that, but instead opted to drive along the north shore of the Sognefjord and later take a shorter ferry across the fjord before driving onto Bergen. There are three places to take such a ferry, and we chose the first one, from Hella to Vangnes. This was kind of a last minute decision, as we had planned to drive along the north shore of the Sognefjord all the way to Lavik, but we were worried about time. In any case crossing over to Vangness had the benefit of putting us on a road to Bergen that passed through the town of Vik, which has another stave church.

Vik stave church

The Vik stave church is somewhat bigger than the older Urnes church, and features decorative dragons on the roof. They come across as a charming throwback to pagan times (although I suppose Christians also believed in dragons). The Vik church was built by a family, the Hopperstads, and is named after them today (the “Hopperstad Stavkyrkje”). You still see the name Hopperstad on relatively gravestones in the graveyard. The Vik church shows, even more so than the Urnes church, the Romanesque influence. It’s worth remembering that the churches, other than their stone foundations, are entirely wood.

Another interesting feature of the Hopperstad church in Vik is that there is medieval graffiti carved into a wall, which the guide will show you if you ask. It looks like some of the graffiti are “sketches” for the dragons that would be carved for the roof.

Medieval graffiti in the Vik stave church

After Vik, we drove up and over another ridge, above the tree line, before descending with more hairpin turns down to the coastal plain that leads to Bergen.

In Bergen, we checked into our hotel, the Oleana, another well-run modernized hotel in an old building (like the hotel in Oslo). (For those driving into Bergen, note that the Oleana, located centrally on Ole Bulls Plass, does not have parking, but there’s a public parking structure about two blocks away. There is no need to have a car in Bergen, and we didn’t use ours while we were there. To return the car to the rental car company on a weekend, however, would have meant returning the car to the airport and then getting back into town, and that didn’t seem worth it. Also—be advised that there was a large drop-off fee charged for renting a car in Oslo and leaving it in Bergen.)

That night we’d made reservations at a restaurant we’d read about in the New York Times, the Lysverket. It was a “creative chef” type restaurant that featured local ingredients and paid tribute to traditional cooking, yet above all wanted to be a destination for foodies. We liked it well enough, but the food wasn’t particularly special, in our opinions, and the only menu choice one could make was to take either their four- or seven- course dinner. Not sure we’ll go back on our next trip to Bergen.

Sunday, Sept. 10. Bergen is a terrific town. I have a friend, an architect and planner at UCLA, who has always identified Barcelona as the city that got better every century, but from what I can tell, Bergen has the same history. Bergen was one of the five major cities in the Hanseatic League, the German consortium that dominated commerce (and not only commerce) in northern Europe for four hundred years starting in the 13th century. Bergen was where the German traders traded grain and other products for the dried cod (known as “stockfish”) that Norse fishermen caught and produced (primarily from January through March!) in the far north. Stockfish was a major source of protein for Europeans from medieval times up to the 20th century. A byproduct, cod liver oil, was used for lighting until kerosene came along in the mid-19th century. Codfish were to northern Europe much as olive trees were to the Mediterranean.

After heavy grazing at the Oleana breakfast buffet (one thing about Norway is that restaurant meals, along with everything else, are expensive, but if you stay a hotel with a breakfast buffet, you can save one meal, because you won’t need lunch!), Janet and I walked down into the old harbor area of Bergen, known as Bryggen, which is where the Hanseatic traders worked and lived.

The herring section of the Oleana’s breakfast buffet.

Facades in Bryggen facing the harbor. The wooden building on the right is the Hanseatic Museum.

There were many laws and customs against the German traders fraternizing with the locals. The traders mostly came to Bergen as young men to work for a few years, make money, and then return home. Our first stop was at the Hanseatic Museum.

The Hanseatic Museum is contained in a trading building (known as a “tenement”) from the 18th century (a fire in 1702 destroyed the old(er) city), which preserves how the traders lived. These pictures show sleeping cabinets, with sliding doors for privacy and darkness, for an apprentice and for a manager. The latter is a bit nicer and includes what is either a portrait of the wife back home or an 18th century pinup. You can learn a lot about the stockfish trade in the museum—as someone who loves dishes made from dried cod (bacalao in Spanish) I found it all fascinating.

A ticket to the Hanseatic Museum also gives one admission to another old building, the “assembly room,” where the apprentices took classes and where all the traders could eat hot meals (open fires were prohibited in the trading buildings), and to a fisheries museum. We took the shuttle bus the museum provides to the two other museums.

At the fisheries museum we boarded a little boat that took us further out in the harbor to an outdoor museum that celebrates the architectural history of Bergen. The “Gamle Bergen Museum” (Old Bergen Museum) is a collection of traditional buildings that were moved to a park when they otherwise would have been destroyed. In the summer, apparently it’s quite a scene. Actors in period costumes circulate, playing roles associated with the different buildings. There’s even a room, the “60s room,” with modern Scandinavian furniture. I wonder if they have actors for that. The museum closes at the end of August, but the day we were there it was reopened for a national culture day that Norway celebrates with many events for children.

The Old Bergen Museum

Another scene from the Old Bergen Museum.

The “60s room” at the Old Bergen Museum.

On the boat to the Gamle Museum we chatted with a man who was out for the day with his kids. He worked for a fish company, and he told us the names of his favorite fish restaurants in Bergen. That night we went to the one that was open on Sunday, Bryggeloftet & Stuene Restaurant, in the Bryggen, and we ate well.

Next day, we flew back to Boston from Bergen’s small and efficient airport, via Iceland.

We hope to return.

Modern Bergen (and Norway): still a crossroads.

 

Six years of process, and then . . . boom!

At the City Council meeting last Tuesday night on Santa Monica’s Downtown Community Plan (DCP) the ironies abounded. As planning staff has told us many times, the DCP is the result of six years’ of process involving countless public meetings, along with studies and other work by consultants. The Monday night before Tuesday’s meeting itself featured about 150 community members testifying on the plan. Yet to make the biggest decisions about the plan, on the most difficult, contentious and significant issues, the City Council had only time for frantic deliberations as Mayor Ted Winterer pushed them to take “straw votes” as if they were on a life-and-death deadline.

So much for deliberative representative democracy.

Not only that, but the debate over the very most contentious and significant issue—the amount of affordable housing to require for-profit developers to build—was based on a new financial analysis that had been assembled in admitted haste over the previous weekend in response to a recommendation from the Housing Commission to expand the required amount of affordable housing to 30% in some circumstances, a percentage more than what any other jurisdiction in California requires. This analysis, by the City’s regular consultant, Paul Silvern, had not been released to the public for comment or even given to the councilmembers prior to the meeting. The first they heard of it was Silvern’s oral presentation Tuesday night.

Based on this analysis the councilmembers voted to require an on-site affordable housing requirement of more than 20% on any market-rate apartment building greater than 50 feet in height, reaching a 30% affordable requirement at 70 feet in height. I’d say that these numbers are unprecedented, but in fact they would bring Santa Monica back to where it was in the early 1990s, when it had a 30% requirement. For those without long memories, the results of that requirement were (i) no housing got built, and (ii) housing developers sued the City and won, and the City had to revise its zoning so that housing could be built.

While anti-change forces in the City have been chipping away at that 1990s pro-housing zoning for 20 years, it’s the DCP that is finally replacing it entirely. Ironic for a plan that is touted as a “housing plan.”

But I want to be fair to Paul Silvern: I said his analysis was what the council used to justify going to 30%, but he himself, as passionately as I’ve ever heard him speak, advised the council not to go there. He did not believe his analysis of theoretical and marginal financial feasibility at the 30% level provided justification for requiring it.

And I also don’t want to be completely negative. The council did some good things at the meeting, building on good work from the Planning Commission and staff.

For one, the council voted to remove parking minimums for developments downtown; this was in fact a “forward to the past” move, since the City back in the 1960s removed parking minimums for the core area around Third Street, but 50 years later it’s still considered a brave and radical move.

For two, the council approved expanding significantly (though not as far as would have been justified) the scope of administrative review over housing development. It was telling, however, that some councilmembers wanted to get back every bit of advantage this gave housing developers by assessing new burdens on the construction of market-rate housing. This is where the impetus to increase the on-site affordable housing obligation to 30% came from.

The council also approved reasonable development standards for the three large hotel sites downtown, gave more incentives to 100% affordable housing developments, and increased allowable development in the “Neighborhood Village” area south of Wilshire (although this last improvement will probably be moot considering the increased affordable housing cost put on developments above 50 feet in height).

But getting back to housing, some readers might be wondering why I, a proponent of building affordable housing, object to piling affordable housing requirements on market-rate housing. The reason is that we need market-rate housing just as much as we need affordable, because if middle-class households can’t find new housing that they can afford, particularly in historically middle-class areas like the Westside, then they will cannibalize existing housing occupied by low-income people. This is what is happening all over California, as reported in the papers (including now the New York Times) nearly every day. Housing and neighborhood activists decry gentrification, but discouraging investment in housing is what drives increases in housing costs.

For so long as we have more people who don’t qualify for affordable housing than who do, which is, by the way, a good thing, then, by definition, or simple math, we need more housing for people who don’t qualify. We need that housing to be built, and if we unreasonably burden developers who build it, or owners of the property it could be built on, we won’t get it.

It’s not like there shouldn’t be inclusionary housing. We also have a value that we want housing for different incomes to be mixed together or in proximity. And in a rising housing market, there are some developer profits that can be tapped for this purpose, if developers are given sufficient entitlements to build and there is certainty in the process. But we have to recognize that more investment will be attracted to housing development the lesser the burdens on it.

Ultimately the money for building necessary affordable housing must come from the whole of society.

Thanks for reading.

The DCP on its final stage

After, in words taken from the staff report, “nearly six years in development” (not too much longer than it takes to get approval to build an apartment building!), Santa Monica’s Downtown Community Plan (DCP) is finally approaching finality: the Santa Monica City Council will hear public testimony at a special meeting Monday night, debate the DCP Tuesday night, and vote on it in two weeks.

I wrote five blogs on the DCP in May when the Planning Commission was reviewing it, and I will try to focus my reporting now on the changes in the prior draft the planning and other commissions, and staff, now recommend, and what they are leaving to the council to decide.

There’s bad news and good news.

To start with a little bit of bad news, it appears that not even one board or commission recommended including in the DCP’s history section mention of Arcadia Bandini de Baker as one of the founders of Santa Monica. Maybe the Commission on the Status of Women should review the DCP, too.

But enough with identity politics. I’ll get right into some good news. The DCP is still fundamentally flawed, but it will be less fundamentally flawed if the council follows the Planning Commission’s recommendations, and even less so if the council builds on them in ways that staff is now suggesting.

To recap what I wrote in May, the DCP represents a retreat from extremely successful policies the City adopted in the 1990s, policies that gave residential development big financial advantages over commercial development. Inexplicably, for a plan that its backers call a “housing plan,” the DCP drastically reduces the edge residential development has over commercial in terms of allowed square footage (“FAR”), while increasing even more drastically the relative cost of residential development over commercial development. While the City has financial modeling that purports to show that residential development under the DCP will be feasible, there’s no analysis that shows that developers will in fact build residential development, when it will be much simpler and less costly to build suburban-style commercial projects like low-rise offices or retail.

The Planning Commission made an effort to address this issue. The commissioners did not make recommendations relating to the substantive issues of the relative costs and benefits of developing housing versus commercial, other than some incentives for 100% affordable projects, but they did recommend simplifying the approval process for all housing developments up to certain size limits. The commission recommended that any housing project on up to two standard lots (meaning up to 15,000 square feet of land) be subject only to administrative approval. Similarly, in the “Transit Adjacent” zone where Tier 3 projects are still allowed, they recommended increasing the threshold for requiring a development agreement from 60,000 to 90,000 square feet.

These recommendations by the Planning Commission are significant, not the least because they have encouraged planning staff to do some planning of their own. On pages 49 and 50 of the staff report, where staff gives its recommendations to the City Council, staff recommends that the council consider additional incentives for housing development.

It’s taken “nearly six years,” but it was heartwarming to see in the staff report recognition that making it administratively easier to build housing would be “similar to the procedural incentives that were formerly in place for Downtown in the 1990s that resulted in the production of approximately 2,500 housing units.” (Let me add, because it’s important, that if these downtown properties had been developed for commercial uses, which, given Silicon Beach would likely have happened, this would have resulted in more than one million square feet of commercial, mainly office, development. Development that would have generated orders of magnitude more traffic, particularly rush hour traffic, than the apartments that were built at the double-FAR granted to residential development.)

I’d be shouting hallelujah to the rooftops, but for the fact that the DCP still contains policies that dramatically favor commercial development over housing, policies that the Housing Commission, believe it or not, wants to make even worse, by piling more affordable housing requirements onto market-rate housing.

The DCP will never be as favorable to housing as the 1990s zoning (which, by way, produced a lot of affordable housing). The staff report makes the unfounded claim that the DCP is different, and presumably better, than the 1990s zoning because the DCP has development standards that will make projects “complement Downtown’s existing character” (for my skepticism about that, see this blog) as well as make downtown vibrant, walkable and welcoming to a diverse population. The problem with this rationale is that the 1990s rules have been proven to produce these results—it’s only wishful speculation that the DCP will do the same.

IMG_3703

Part of Downtown’s existing character that the DCP would have complemented.

The Planning Commission also did good work adding incentives for 100% affordable projects, but only in some zones downtown. The incentives should apply throughout downtown. Even more important, incentives should extend to market-rate projects, too. The plan could encourage housing for all income levels and in particular onsite inclusionary housing by the simple measure of not counting the square footage of onsite affordable units against FAR limitations. If developers are saving government from having to provide the public good of affordable housing, why not at least give them free air to build it in? (You could still have a maximum cap on FAR.)

Regarding the zones downtown, the DCP has too many of them. Downtown is not big and there are not as many differences within downtown as the DCP would have you believe. In the six-minute walk I take most days of the week from my office to my dad’s apartment for lunch, I pass retail, offices and apartments, all mixed up. This is good. The DCP overcomplicates what downtown Santa Monica is all about. It’s full of distinctions without differences. It micromanages.

Hopefully the City Council will take into account the recommendations from Downtown Santa Monica, Inc. (DTSM), the City-created entity that manages downtown. Who knows downtown better than DTSM? No one, and DTSM’s recommendations, on pages 31-32 of the staff report, include equalizing (more or less) the development standards among the “Neighborhood Village” (NV) and “Bayside Conservation” (BC) districts and the Transit Adjacent (TA) district. In the staff report the staff opens up the possibility of increasing height and FAR standards, presumably in the NV and BC, but except for a few pros and cons doesn’t provide the council with much in the way of analysis.

DTSM also knows the retail situation, and knows that it makes sense to allow small offices on the ground floors of mid-block apartment buildings. Other than on the boulevards, I don’t see any reason to favor retail over offices in ground floors. DTSM also makes a small but important point, which is that it makes sense to allow retailers to easily redesign frontages.

Thanks for reading.

The DCP and the lingering impacts of the Great Recession

The question I ended my post with on Saturday was why would Santa Monica enact a Downtown Community Plan (DCP) that makes it easier to build commercial development than housing? Keep in mind that this is taking place during a local, regional and statewide housing crisis, and following a period of 30 years during which something like nine million square feet of commercial development were built in the city, but only a couple of thousand units of housing were built to house the many thousands of new employees.

But first, before getting into that, consider what’s happened in the rest of the city since the enactment of the LUCE in 2010 and the new zoning ordinance in 2015. That history gives a preview of what will happen downtown if the City Council enacts the DCP as currently drafted. The LUCE and the zoning also turn out to favor commercial development, and, sure enough, properties expected to be developed with housing in industrial areas and along the boulevards are instead being developed, or re-used, as one- or two-story commercial projects.

The two biggest examples are in the old industrial area. One is the “Pen Factory” being developed on the Paper Mate site. There the developer Hines had proposed to build 499 apartments to go along with 400,000 square feet of offices and other commercial development. This was too much office, and not enough housing for the big site, but Hines had followed the LUCE standards in developing its plan.

Council Member Kevin McKeown opposed the Hines project and supported the Residocracy referendum that ultimately killed it. He said that Hines would come back and negotiate a better project. McKeown’s intentions were sincere, and I had hoped that he’d be right, given that during the LUCE process he was one of the few who argued against planning staff that the LUCE’s development standards for the Bergamot area called for too much commercial development and not enough housing.

But after the City Council revoked the project’s approval, Hines didn’t renegotiate. They sold the project to new developers who are converting the factory into about 215,000 square feet of offices. Gone are 499 units of housing, along with all other benefits the City negotiated for, including new streets and a sidewalk on Olympic Boulevard. This fiasco would never have happened if the LUCE had not favored office development in the area in the first place—the developer would have had to build housing and would have planned accordingly.

Less well known, but equally a disaster, is what’s happening, or not happening, with the nearly three-acre property on the 2800 block of Colorado known as the Roberts Center. Under a development agreement that site was going to be developed with 231 housing units and only about 60,000 square feet of commercial. The project would have been coordinated with projects on either side of it so that, among other things, Pennsylvania Avenue could be extended through them, breaking up a super block, and helping traffic flow in the area. Now the property owner has abandoned the DA process and is simply rehabbing the existing buildings for new commercial uses. Again, no housing and no community benefits.

Since enactment of the zoning ordinance in 2015, the same thing is happening on the boulevards. Developers are downscaling and building commercial. Properties at Wilshire and Berkeley, and the old Jerry’s Liquor site, that were intended to be sites for apartments will instead become two-story mini-malls, featuring restaurants that will generate more traffic than the apartments would have. The developers needed no special approvals for these projects as they were subject only to administrative approval.

Downtown, where a few projects, under pre-DCP standards, are moving forward after City Council approvals, we can nonetheless see the future in the two-story commercial building recently completed at Fourth and Broadway. On this site there was going to be a mixed-use, primarily residential building, and a plan was approved. But when the developer had to change those plans, to add parking, the project came under new fees charged by the City. The developer opted to build a two-story commercial building, which was also only subject to administrative approval.

IMG_3794

The commercial building at 4th & Broadway built instead of housing.

The City, with the analysis from HR&A Advisors that I discussed in my previous post, has tried to show that housing development under the DCP will be feasible, but the City didn’t ask HR&A to compare the costs, risks, and profitability of residential development against those of commercial. Nor does the DCP take into account how few developers are willing to attempt developing housing in Santa Monica.

Housing development is not for the faint of heart. Two individuals, Craig Jones and Neil Shekhter, are responsible for most of the housing built in downtown Santa Monica over the past 20 years. It’s telling that they both ultimately got into trouble with their lenders. It’s a risky business. Unlike Jones and Shekhter, most developers and (especially) their lenders avoid risks. Given Silicon Beach there’s no risk now and plenty of gain in building one- and two-story retail and/or office buildings, which fly under Tier 1 and only need administrative approvals. It’s these projects that the DCP makes easy—precisely the projects that the rhetoric in the DCP says we don’t want.

So, back to my question, why have Santa Monica’s planners pushed a pro-commercial development plan for downtown? (By the way—I don’t doubt their sincerity. They believe they’ve come up with a “housing plan.” That’s part of what makes this so aggravating.)

It’s not simply a surrender by the planners to the don’t-change-anything crowd, although no one likes being yelled at. It’s true that the anti’s don’t want any more housing built, but housing is their target because housing is what has been primarily built since Santa Monica shut down major office development in the ’90s. (And hotels, but they don’t like them either.)

No, the reasons are deeper and go back to the City’s response to the Great Recession, and the disastrous final years of the LUCE process. Up until the recession hit in 2008 the LUCE was moving towards being a sensible plan that left the neighborhoods alone, continued the slowdown on office development, and concentrated considerable housing development in three commercial zones: downtown, the boulevards, and the old industrial areas near Bergamot Station.

But the recession created a financial crisis for the City. Suddenly I started noticing a big change in the City’s attitude towards the LUCE. The narrative was now all about how Santa Monica was a creative city, and our creative businesses were so important and wonderful, and how good it would be to have more of them. What do you know, but the planners started telling us that new development around Bergamot should be 60 percent commercial, mostly “creative office.”

Why this change? It was obvious, and not really hidden: residents cost the City money for the services they need, while commercial projects pay more taxes to the City than they consume in services. Imagine City Hall as a big cash register. Let L.A. build the housing along the Expo line, and provide the services. Santa Monica will provide the jobs and collect the taxes.

It was around then that the double FAR for housing downtown got thrown out. For five years the planners have been drafting this anti-housing DCP without explaining what was wrong with the old development standards and administrative approval processes that actually got a lot of housing built, creating the downtown they say they admire and want to build upon.

Thanks for reading.

 

How to bust a housing boom and a housing boon: more on the DCP

I’m sure readers are trembling with anticipation after I ended my last post with this cliffhanger: aside from drastically reducing the advantage that residential development in downtown Santa Monica had over commercial development in terms of FAR, how otherwise would the Downtown Community Plan (DCP) discourage housing?

The answer in great part has to do with the higher “community benefits” burdens the DCP places on residential compared to commercial development. This disparity is most impactful with respect to affordable housing. While the whole of our society has failed to provide affordable housing for all income levels, it’s not a problem the whole of our society wants to solve. In particular, people who have housing tend to want future residents to pay for both their own housing and the housing of those who can’t afford market-rate housing.

In Santa Monica many residents want developers to pay for affordable housing out of their profits. They believe these developers, who are riding a boom fueled by low interest rates and high rents (a boom that, based on history, is sure to bust), are making too much money. (No surprise, but many of these same residents voted a few years ago against a small tax on the profits property owners (who already pay low taxes because of Prop. 13) will make when they sell their properties, the values of which have been inflated by the housing shortage.)

“Inclusionary” housing requirements can be a good thing, provided that they are not so onerous that they prevent housing of all income levels to be built. The housing market is fungible, and a shortage of housing for the majority of people who do not qualify for affordable housing inevitably drives up the cost of housing for all. This, in a vicious cycle, increases the number of people who qualify for affordable housing (because rents increase) even if they have full-time jobs.

Purportedly to increase affordable housing development, the City of Santa Monica has conducted “nexus” studies (required by the Supreme Court on constitutional grounds) and feasibility studies, to maximize how much affordable housing the City can make developers, both residential or commercial, either provide or subsidize. The burden is nearly 10 times higher on residential than on commercial development.

Under the DCP, a developer of a Tier 2 commercial building will be required to pay an “an affordable housing commercial linkage fee” equal to 23% above the base fee required under the City’s affordable housing production program. These fees currently range from just below $10 per square foot for retail or creative office to a little more than $11 for regular office. Add 23 percent, and you’re at about $13 per square foot.

As opposed to commercial development, the affordable housing burden placed on market rate housing is not expressed as a per-square-foot fee. Instead, it’s a requirement to build the housing, either onsite or, in limited circumstances, offsite. Depending upon the size of the project, between 15 and 25 percent of the units in a Tier 2 residential project must be affordable. How much does this cost?

The numbers are in an analysis that the City commissioned to show that housing development under the DCP would be financially feasible. The City’s consultants, HR&A Advisors, found that on a site where the height limit was 60 feet, a developer could build, on a typical 15,000 square foot, double-lot site, a project with 45 apartments in 48,571 gross square feet of development. (Under the old zoning I discussed in my last post, such a project would have nearly 60 units — so much for the DCP being a “housing plan.”)

For such a development, assuming the developer could find a suitable site within 500 feet, the developer could satisfy the affordable housing obligation by building 12 affordable units offsite. HR&A analyzed the project on that basis. According to HR&A, these units would cost the developer $5,964,121. Based on the project’s gross square footage of 48,571, that works out to about $122 per square foot of development. (I should note that developers have commissioned an analysis that says the costs are higher than HR&A says, but for these purposes I don’t need to get into that.)

So there it is: $122 vs. $13 per square foot. The affordable housing tax on a square foot of residential will be $109 per square foot more than that on commercial development, representing about 20 percent of the cost of development. To put it in other terms, the cost of affordable housing for a 1,300 square foot three-bedroom unit, the kind that the City says it so wants developers to build for the next generation of Santa Monica families, is $158,600.

What about that half-point of additional FAR, in HR&A’s example an additional 7,500 square feet, that the residential developer would get? Won’t that pay for everything?

Do you want to buy a bridge?

If the developer of HR&A’s prototype provided the affordable housing on-site, in which case the obligation would be for nine affordable units, the 7,500 gross square footage bonus would not even cover the floor area required for the affordable units, let alone be a source of profit. Leading to a question: why is the floor area for onsite affordable housing counted against the FAR limit? If the City wants to get affordable housing built, and wants developers to pay for it, the least it could do is not apply the affordable units against FAR limits (or, for that matter, maximum heights).

Possibly if the developer builds the affordable offsite, as modeled in the HR&A analysis, the profit from the 7,500 bonus square feet would compensate at least somewhat for the cost differential between residential and commercial, but the availability of suitable sites within 500 feet of a given project or, in fact, anywhere downtown, is so limited that it’s not worth running the numbers.

The lopsided burdens on residential development don’t end with affordable housing. The per-square foot parks fees charged on commercial development are magnitudes lower on a square foot basis than the per-unit parks fees charged on residential. Infill housing is well known as the most efficient development model for energy usage (codified as such by the state’s climate change laws), yet the City piles on transportation costs (an onsite shared bike requirement?). Infill multi-unit housing also provides for the most efficient use of water, but now the City is adding a new water conservation requirement and/or fee. (Water is a regional resource, yet the City fetishizes its local ground water, much of which, of course, comes from wells in Los Angeles. If it were serious about reducing water consumption, sooner than make it more difficult to build water-thrifty apartments and condos it would require homeowners to replace their lawns with drought-tolerant landscaping.)

I hope by now it’s evident that the DCP is far from being a “housing plan.” I fear it would bring Santa Monica back to where it was 25 years ago, when the courts found that the City’s policies unlawfully prevented housing from being built. I hope it doesn’t come to that.

This post also will end with a cliffhanger, for my next post: why is the City doing this?

Thanks for reading, and have a good Memorial Day weekend.

Downtown Santa Monica ain’t broke

There are good ideas in the Downtown Community Plan (DCP): ideas about the role of Santa Monica’s downtown, about nurturing community in “our town” with more and better housing and local-serving retail, about more “complete streets” that are more friendly to pedestrians, about more quality architecture and more adaptive reuse, about more travel options. There is a lot of more in the ideas.

But ideas are not planning. The planning in the DCP, mostly in the form of numbers and procedures, runs counter to the ideas. The planning is about less; less of everything, that is, except commercial development.

To understand the impact of the DCP one needs to understand the planning regimen it is replacing, but the DCP doesn’t describe or compare itself to the existing rules. You have to know the history yourself.

Key to that history are plans the City enacted in the 1990s that have been extraordinarily successful at producing the kind of downtown—a walkable neighborhood complementing a vibrant economic center—that the DCP says it wants. The DCP itself acknowledges the role of the ’90s planning; in its historical overview, it says that in the 1990s: “Zoning Code amendments provided floor area ratio (FAR) incentives for residential uses to encourage housing development for a mixed-use Downtown. As a result, the number of Downtown residential units doubled over the next 15 years to approximately 2,800 units.”

But the DCP doesn’t describe what those amendments were or what they did. (This is not the only gap in the narrative. The most important event in downtown’s recent history was the conversion of the Third Street Mall into the Promenade, but the Promenade isn’t even mentioned in the DCP’s discussion of the “historic planning context.” It’s all of a piece with the plan’s general reluctance to acknowledge how urban downtown Santa Monica is.)

So, what happened in the ’90s? The City Council, responding to the success of the Promenade and to a court decision that forced Santa Monica to increase housing development, radically incentivized the building of housing downtown. The council did this by turning the commercial zoning downtown upside down: the new zoning, though still called “commercial,” allowed on a given lot twice as much housing development than whatever commercial development was allowed.

To apply numbers to this, the zoning in the downtown commercial zone (“C3”) generally allowed a 2.0 FAR—meaning that square footage of development (“floor area”) on a parcel could equal up to 2X the amount of the square footage of land). The base FAR along Sixth Street was less (1.5), while near the Promenade (in the “Bayside Commercial District”) it was more: mostly 3.0. The double FAR for housing applied in all the zones. Also in response to the court decision, the council made it easier to build housing by relaxing what had been extreme requirements for on-site affordable housing.

The double FAR worked like this: where a developer of two contiguous lots (15,000 square feet) (a typical configuration) could build 30,000 square feet of commercial development under a 2.0 FAR, a residential developer could build 60,000 square feet. The density bonus, combined with steadily rising rents (a product of the regional housing crisis as well as increasing job growth on the Westside), made building housing downtown a better investment than commercial development. Developers even found it profitable to build, without subsidy, apartments that were deed-restricted to be affordable to moderate-income households.

As the DCP acknowledges, the ’90s zoning was a rousing success, resulting in a new neighborhood of about 5,000 residents. Largely led by housing development downtown, the City as a whole greatly improved its housing production. While between 1990 and 2000 the City had virtually no housing production (a net increase in units of 0.2%), between 2000 and 2010 the City had a 6.4% increase, which was better than the City of Los Angeles (5.7%) or the County (5.3%). (These figures come from the City’s most recent general plan housing element.)

For the most part, the new apartments downtown were built in five, sometimes four or six, story buildings with local serving retail or offices on the ground floor. The impact of these apartments has been entirely positive. As I have often mentioned, my mother and father moved into one of them, on the 1500 block of Sixth Street, when the building opened in 2003. We’ve watched the neighborhood blossom. If you doubt this, spend half an hour walking around the blocks emanating from the corner of Sixth and Broadway, especially in the evening or on a Sunday morning when the neighbors are out and about strolling, or waiting to get into restaurants. Here’s a photo of the Sunday brunch scene outside the Blue Daisy Café, Sixth and Broadway:

Blue Daisy on a Sunday

Sometimes I wonder if opponents of downtown development are just jealous of all the fun people who live there have.

It’s like . . . civilized? (How many times have I heard anti-development folks in Santa Monica ask plaintively, “Why can’t Santa Monica be more like Europe?” or in the next breath ask disdainfully, like you’re some kind of idiot for liking apartments and transit, “What! Do you think we’re in Europe?”)

So you ask, if it ain’t broke, why fix it? Good question. Downtown Santa Monica was doing quite well, thank you, before the City embarked on this five-years-going-on-infinity process to make it better. Sure, the ’90s planning could be improved (someday I’ll get into that), but the DCP moves in the wrong direction.

The biggest problem is with FARs. The DCP has for practical purposes removed the residential advantage that was so fruitful. Instead of doubling the FAR for housing, the DCP gives housing developers minor increases in FAR, while generally increasing allowable FARs overall, making commercial development more competitive.

While the basic FARs in the old downtown C3 and C3-C zones ranged from 1.5 to 2.5 (which would, again, be doubled for residential), the basic FARs for the corresponding DCP areas (the Transit Adjacent (TA) and Neighborhood Village (NV) areas) under Tier 2 (which largely corresponds to the same level of development review) are higher, 3.0 for TA and 2.75 for NV. A residential developer gets only a 0.5 bump (to 3.5 and 3.25 respectively). (By the way, I never heard a convincing argument from planning staff or anyone else for what’s wrong with developing housing downtown at a 4.0 FAR, a level that under the DCP can only be reached in the TA zone, and then only with a development agreement.)

Clearly, compared to residential development with its trivial 0.5 bump, commercial development in the TA and NV districts is going to look much better under the DCP than it did under the 1990s zoning. But that’s not the half of it. To truly understand how the DCP discourages residential development, you need to look at the approvals process and the other burdens placed on housing, which will be the subject of my next post.

Thanks for reading.

What would Arcadia do?

Let me begin my further ruminations and fulminations on the Downtown Community Plan (DCP) with a quibble, namely the failure to include in the DCP’s historical background section mention of Arcadia Bandini de Baker as a founder of Santa Monica. The DCP identifies as founders only Arcadia’s husband, Col. Robert Symington Baker, and Nevada Sen. John Percival Jones, while arguably Arcadia was the most important of the three for Santa Monica’s history. (I don’t mean to offend the dignity of Señora de Baker, but I’ll take the liberty of using her first name, since in her day she was well known by it.)

Arcadia Terrace sign

Santa Monica’s first resort hotel, Arcadia’s namesake, was here.

Arcadia was enormously wealthy. She was rich not only from being a member of a Californio land grant family, but also from what she had inherited from her first husband, Abel Stearns, perhaps in his day the richest man in southern California, and from her own business acumen. A true California, Arcadia never spoke English, at least not in public, conducting all her many business dealings in Spanish.

It’s true that Baker, whom Arcadia married in 1875, had acquired the land that would become Santa Monica before their marriage, and he owned it when, a few months after he and Arcadia married, he and Jones (who brought the railroad to Santa Monica), sold the first lots at auction. Arcadia, however, was right there, involved in designing how the town was subdivided, making sure there was land for schools, churches and parks. Even more significant, in 1877 Baker sold the land to Arcadia and Jones and it was those two who then formed the Santa Monica Land and Water Company. Later, Arcadia collaborated with Collis Huntington when he built the Long Wharf and tried to make Santa Monica the region’s great port.

Arcadia lived out her days in a mansion on Ocean Avenue (near her friend, Georgina Jones) and was a great philanthropist. She and Senator Jones donated the land for Palisades Park, the land for the Westwood veterans home, and land for other public purposes. When she died in 1912 she left a fortune estimated at between eight and fifteen million dollars, the equivalent of hundreds of millions today. In her lifetime and after she was known as the “Godmother of Santa Monica.”

Unfortunately, the DCP is not the only place where the City has recently neglected Arcadia’s legacy. Last month the City installed historical pavers in the sidewalk on Fourth Street north of the downtown Expo station, and they name only Jones and Baker as Santa Monica’s founders.

4th Street historical paver

Etched in concrete: Baker and Jones, but no Arcadia.

Maybe the omission from the DCP of one Latina from Santa Monica’s history is a small thing when the document is, after all, about the future not the past. Overall the DCP’s historical section (pp. 60-65) is a fair retelling of the booms and busts of downtown. The omission of Arcadia, however, strikes me as a melancholic symbol of how cramped our thinking today is about our future.

Santa Monica has always been a dynamic place, always changing, with residents willing to face the future with open and optimistic eyes. While to some extent the DCP itself acknowledges this history, it is, as I wrote previously, a political document, and the politics it responds to are the politics of fear.

Few experienced in their lifetimes more change than Arcadia. She was born on a Mexican rancho in 1827, and died in “L.A.” in 1912. Consider the changes Arcadia experienced and the challenges they must have created, and how she dealt with change and responded to challenges: namely, with foresight, industry, and optimism. (I suspect she was optimistic until the end, since she died without a will, setting off an epic battle over her estate!)

Compare the magnitude of the changes Arcadia confronted to the mere possibility of incremental, even trivial, changes today that cause so much fear and panic. How many times have we heard angry residents declare and demand they have a right not to have their city change from what they bought into 30 years before, when what’s on the table is a 5% increase in our housing stock over 20 years?

Think of how much time and money and angst have gone into the DCP, and before the DCP the LUCE, and we’re not yet done 13 years into the whole combined process. And for what? The DCP will affect only about 20% of the land in downtown, if that, and the political arguments are over the margins. Should the basic height limit be 60 feet, or 84? Should the Tier 2 FAR be 3.25 or 3.5? Should the threshold for development agreements be 60,000 square feet or 100,000? Should Tier 3 developments be allowed beyond a few blocks near the Expo station? Even the arguments over the “large” sites are small potatoes when looked at in the context of all of downtown.

It’s not like one side wants to dredge the harbor and bring back Jones’ and Huntington’s vision of a great port in Santa Monica Bay, and the other side wants to revert to grazing cattle. It’s not like one side wants to bring back Douglas Aircraft and Pacific Ocean Park, and the other side wants to close down the Promenade.

Unfortunately, the DCP reflects our politics by seeking a low common denominator. It’s no accident that Residocracy’s Armen Melkonians says he likes the plan. It’s a plan drafted to appease a minority of Santa Monicans who blindly fear change.

I say “blindly” because the anger is incoherent. As a result, responding to incoherence, the DCP lacks logic. The DCP aims to please people not with a logical vision for the future, but by shaving down reasonable development standards for no reason other than appeasement.

Why do I say the “No” element in Santa Monica politics is incoherent? Consider:

  • They oppose “boxy” apartment buildings, but want limits on height that will guarantee boxy buildings.
  • They oppose developers “slicing and dicing,” but want to kill large-site developments.
  • They oppose development agreements, but want a low threshold for when a developer needs one.
  • They oppose, most of all, traffic, but oppose housing development instead of traffic-generating commercial development, housing development that would reduce commuter traffic, and they oppose limiting parking, which would also reduce traffic.
  • They say they want to save water, but they fight the kind of development (infill housing as opposed to sprawl) that uses less water.
  • Most fundamentally, they oppose the way things are, but they also oppose change.

Thanks for reading.